


Living Room

by RyanJames



Series: Drabbles [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 01:36:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11174301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanJames/pseuds/RyanJames
Summary: It felt good but it was just a backup plan, a distraction.





	Living Room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeyitsRochelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyitsRochelle/gifts).



> Remember painting  
> Painting the living room  
> When we were building a home  
> We must've been dreaming  
> Or breathing in the fumes  
> Cause now we're standing alone

The little house seemed so quiet. It was eerie to Benny. The house was so often filled with loud music and even louder visitors. The entertainment center was empty with Dean’s record player and music collection gone, leaving nothing but a shape in the light layer of dust. Housekeeping was never high on the to-do list, though Sam would often clean up in exchange for crashing on the couple’s couch. Just last week, he had knocked on their door with a six pack and a box of steaks.

Benny sat on the couch, sipping a beer but barely tasting it. He was staring at the blank spot on the wall where Dean’s Chevy poster had been. This was inevitable and he knew it. Eventually their fling would go up in flames. They knew what they were doing, using each other but it felt good. It felt good to not have to sleep alone, to have a household they built together, a healthy sex life and a deep bond. It felt good but it was just a backup plan, a distraction.

After Andrea had left him, Benny was a complete mess. Dean had come into his life when he needed him most. Dean had missed his chance with the famous Cas. In the beginning, he would get drunk and ramble on about what an idiot he was for never telling him the truth. Benny would sit by listening, nodding along, making sure Dean didn’t go off in a rage or pass out and choke. He found himself staring at the younger man’s mouth more than he was listening. It happened so gradually, their hang outs became less about lost loves and more about who made better burgers and if Dean could stump Benny at music trivia. One night, in Benny’s studio apartment, bellies full of chili and cornbread, a John Wayne marathon playing on television, it happened. Dean turned to add to his ever-running commentary and caught Benny staring shamelessly and completely sober. Benny gripped the back of Dean’s neck, closing the space between them. The kiss was rough; all beard burn, tongue and callused hands. Dean moaned fuck and Benny complied. That old rickety futon barely held together in the following months until Benny’s lease was up.

They spent the first night in their new place on the living room floor, eating Chinese take-out on a massive nest of blankets. Record player spinning Guns N’ Roses’ Welcome to The Jungle on the floor where the couch now sat. They had been happy, still running on the excitement of buying a house on a leap of faith. Dean sang along terribly, bouncing around the make shift bed with no abandon. They ate grocery store pie with their fingers and stayed up laughing and planning until sunrise then slept most of the day.

They had picked out the paint together. Benny refurbished the kitchen table and chairs, they rescued from a farm up for auction. They shopped for dishes and appliances at Goodwill, but came home with more records than plates. The toaster had started a small fire the first time they used it. Dean made dirty remarks about their need for a California King bed, that clever smirk on his face. He was wearing Benny’s shirt, so big on him, it fell to his knees, hiding his boxers. He had wrapped his arms around him, looking up at the bear of a man, “We don’t need a bed, we can just fuck on the counter. Hell, we already broke in the table.” Benny had let out a gruff laugh and held Dean tighter. 

The most painful thing about rebounds is when one partner falls out of distraction and into love when the other doesn’t. It happened after an argument with the old man next door about the length of the lawn or the music being too loud the night before, the details were blurred now. It started with the lawn, then the music so they had mowed more often and tried to keep the noise down. But then it was the sound of the impala, they didn't pick up the newspaper soon enough. It was always something. After a snide comment about a kiss goodbye they shared in the driveway, Dean had made sure to rev the engine every time he left. Benny had come through the door in a huff, frustrated that the man could still find things to bitch about. Dean had been in the kitchen spaghetti on the stove and garlic bread in the oven. He turned with a smile that lit up his whole face, leaned up to kiss the larger man and handed him a beer. Just like that, Benny's anger was gone, replaced by a warm feeling in his chest. He knew that feeling, he'd experienced it before. 

 

Two years seemed to fly by in blur of dinners, empty beer bottles, oil changes, breakfasts in bed, parties, arguments and make ups. Benny was in too deep now and there was no going back. He told himself not to feel it. He just wasn’t one to talk about it, neither of them were. He couldn’t make a home out of a fling. He knew better so he said nothing. Looking back now, he knew that he’d been in love for much longer than he was willing to admit.

There was a car in the driveway that Benny didn’t recognize, when got home from work. It wasn’t unusual but there was no party when he got through the door. No music, just muffled voices coming from the living room and Dean’s old duffle bag by the pile of boots in breezeway. The voices stopped completely when the door shut behind him. His footfalls sounded much too loud on the tile kitchen floor. He rounded into the living room to find Dean sitting on the coffee table and a visitor, with a mess of dark hair, on the couch. The stranger blinked up at Benny, taking in his massive frame with curious bright blue eyes. He was wearing a white dress shirt and blue tie. He looked rather out of place in their house. Dean just stared down at his boots. 

“Benny, uh, this is Cas.” The man attempted to smile at him. 

Benny looked back at the duffle by the door. 

“Oh.” He felt his throat tighten. Dean was leaving him, it was happening. The inevitable. 

There were no big goodbyes. Benny felt ill under this man’s gaze when Dean couldn’t even look him in the eye. There was no point in fighting it when Dean had already made up his mind. He watched from the front window as Dean got into the impala, engine roaring to life. He finally met his gaze through the windshield. Castiel backed out his Toyota first and then Dean was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> [Living Room by Heffron Drive](https://www.www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJMJqiZGuNA)   
>  [come find me on Tumblr](https://www.illbeyourgentlemanstory.tumblr.com/)   
>  [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7732FC9)


End file.
